Knot me on ice, Captain(BL)-Chapter 62: The Birthday Gala: Elian

Rhys

My blood was boiling, threatening to spill where I stood.

What the hell were my father and grandfather playing at? I thought.

I stared at Elian, the boy standing before me with a smile that looked like it had been painted on by a professional.

My grandfather was beaming, and my father was watching me with that smug, expectant look he wore whenever he thought he’d successfully cornered me.

Betrothed? I didn’t remember this boy. I remembered a name from years ago—a business arrangement mentioned over cigars and whiskey—but I had never agreed to this. To bring him here, now, in front of the entire elite circuit and... in front of Kayden.

My hands clenched into fists at my sides, my knuckles cracking under the strain. I didn’t dare look at Kayden yet. I didn’t need to. I could feel the waves of shock and hurt coming off him. He was sitting there, trying so hard to act cool, but I knew he wasn’t.

I had hoped he wouldn’t judge me.

"Now that the whole family has come together," my grandfather said, his voice carrying that terrifyingly calm authority that usually preceded an execution. He raised his glass, the blue light of the chandeliers catching the amber liquid. "It’s time we have that engagement discussion once this year’s series is over."

Engagement? I must have heard wrong. I stared at him, my vision blurring with rage. I felt like I was back on the ice, facing a blindside hit I didn’t see coming.

I looked at Elian, who was blushing and looking down at his lap like a dutiful prize, and knew why Grandfather had chosen him. He was a masterpiece of selective breeding and high-society grooming.

Elian was soft—dangerously soft. His hair was a pale, shimmering blonde that looked like spun silk under the blue Borealis chandeliers, falling perfectly over a forehead that had never known a drop of honest sweat.

His eyes were a startling, clear grey, framed by lashes so long they cast shadows on his high, porcelain cheekbones.

Elian didn’t just sit; he posed as an Omega would, and every movement was calculated to show off the slender line of his neck and the delicate set of his shoulders.

He was dressed in a suit of silver-grey silk that probably cost more than a rookie’s annual salary, cinched at the waist to emphasize a frame that looked like it would break under the slightest bit of pressure.

Elian was the perfect high-society Omega, but not for me.

I looked back at my grandfather and spoke up. "What are you talking about?" I asked. "Engagement? I have no idea about any engagement. I am a hockey player and I am still playing. Why the hell should I get engaged? I have no time for any form of family now!"

The table went silent. Even the guests at the nearby tables began to tilt their heads, sensing the shift in the atmosphere.

"Rhys, darling, please," Linda started, using her manipulative, honeyed voice as she reached out a hand toward me. "It’s your grandfather’s birthday. We should be celebrating the union of two great families. Think of the legacy—"

"Shut up, Linda." I angrily cut her off.

The words were out of my mouth before I could filter them. I didn’t care about the ’propriety’ of the Aurelian Hall. I didn’t care about the guests watching us.

"Don’t speak to me about legacy," I hissed, my eyes flashing as I looked at her. "You are the last person in this room who should be talking to me about family."

A collective gasp rippled through the immediate circle.

Linda’s face went pale, her mouth hanging open in shock, while Raymond looked like he was about to jump across the table to defend her. My father slammed his hands on the table. "Rhys," he called through gritted teeth. "Don’t you ever speak to your mother like that," he warned. "Apologize. Now."

I felt the entire hall’s eyes on us, and not even the low hum of the orchestra music could block my father’s voice as he spoke up again. "Now! Rhys Calder, apologize to your mother."

I looked at Linda. She was playing her part perfectly. Her eyes were wide and watery; she pressed a trembling hand to her chest as if I had physically wounded her.

A cold laughter broke from my throat as I watched her fake reaction.

"My mother?" I repeated, the words dripping with ice. I leaned forward, resting my palms on the gold-trimmed table, staring directly into my father’s murderous eyes. "That’s interesting, Father. Because last time I checked the Calder records, my mother died years ago. Unless you’re telling me she’s risen from the grave to wear a designer dress and sit at your right hand?"

The silence that followed was absolute. I heard a sharp intake of breath from Sir Federico. Even Grandfather’s predatory smile vanished.

"Rhys Calder, that is enough," my father warned, slamming his hand on the table again. The crystal glasses jumped, and a few drops of red wine splashed onto the white silk cloth like fresh blood. "She has raised you! She has carried the Calder name with more grace than you ever have!"

"I never asked her to!" I fired back at him. "She carried a title she bought with someone else’s life!" I paused for a moment and looked at Linda. "She is your wife, Father. She is Raymond’s mother. But to me? She is a ghost living in a dead woman’s house. Don’t you ever command me to respect a lie, because she will never be my mother."

Raymond growled as he jumped out of his chair, leaning towards me with his fist clenched, aiming right at my face. "You bastard!" He yelled and swung at me, but I grabbed his hand and pushed him away. He lost his balance and landed hard on the floor.

"Raymond!" Linda cried out as she stood up and rushed to her son’s side. "What the hell is wrong with you? What the hell did we do so wrong for you to hate us?" she demanded, sobbing.

I scoffed, knowing this was one of her crazy attempts to gain pity, and it was working already as everyone was pointing fingers at me and murmuring to themselves. But I didn’t care, because I was done playing pretend.

"You!" My father yelled at me. "Follow me right now," he ordered.

"Fine," I spat, straightening my suit jacket with trembling hands. "Let’s go, Father. I’ve been wanting to tell you what I think of you in private for a long time anyway."

I already knew what he wanted to say—the usual ’I made you’ talk—but I followed behind him, casting a look at Kayden whose eyes were widened in shock.